Scumbag's Life
by weirdbutwow
Summary: The better things in life aren't meant for guys like him. But fuck that, he'll get them. He'll get them if it means breaking laws and being an international criminal. No one tells Captain Boomerang what he can and can't get. Because, turns out, you can get a lot of things if you take them. (One Shot about Boomerang's life before the Suicide Squad. Based on the 2016 movie.)


AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wanted to bring in The Flash too since those two share a long history in the cartoons and comics, but had to remember that Barry isn't even officially discovered in the DC Cinematic Universe (see Batman v Superman) pre!Suicide Squad 2016. Bummer. But enjoy this anyway!

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Digger Harkness has done all sorts of crimes. He's evilly good in a lot of things, willing to do a lot of things to live a life.

He'll steal, assault, break things, blackmail, kidnap. He'll pick pockets if he has to. Robbing jewelry stores, however, has become his thing, a trademark. Stuff sells well, he doesn't have to hurt too many people and as a real scumbag, he's just always had a fascination for the shiny things. The better things in life that aren't meant for guys like him. But fuck that, he'll get them. He'll get them if it means breaking laws and being an international criminal. No one tells Captain Boomerang what he can and can't get. Because, turns out, you can get a lot of things if you take them. Deceive, lie. Yes, lying's a crucial part of business. Hell, he'd sell out friends if that's what it takes. He's an opportunist pig. He has to be. You gotta look out for your own head or you'll lose it.

/

He doesnt have a real place to stay most of the time. Not because he can't afford it (the jewelry business is going good, even with all of those "heroes" running around these days), but because staying in the same place isn't a good idea when you're a wanted criminal. And that shit's given him total paranoia. He's like a street dog, flinching and turning at every sound. Well, almost.

/

Most of the stuff he steals, he keeps on his body. In a way, the over-the-top accessory completes the scruffy look. Plus, he likes the gold. He's just a fool for that, a Gold Digger (pun intended). It's not that he doesn't have plenty of black market connections to turn it into money, but running around with stacks of dollar bills is just unhandy if you have no bed to store them under. And as long as he doesn't steal something worth a fortune to quietly leave the country with and put his ass to rest for good in a nice mansion on Tahiti, staying as inconspicuous as possible is smartest.

So it's ironic when he wraps the duct tape around his boots. On first sight, it contradicts the heavy gold chain around the broad neck. But he likes those bummers. Even when the leather barely wants to stick around his feet anymore.

/

He's lucky a great lot of women dig the scruffy rogue look. Another unexpected pro in the never ending list of cons that is Digger Harkness. And useful when he needs a place to sleep. He meets them in bars most of the time, one late night drink too much and the sturdy shouldered guy that acts just enough of a scumbag to hit every girl's guilty pleasure and yet not too much so they still trust taking him home with them. It provides drunk sex and a warm bed. And he can't lie, that's not the worst aspect of his life. Still he feels like a fucking prostitute when they pay him with a bed to sleep in and, unknowingly, the few things he snatches as a breakfast before leaving in the morning.

One time, because he was in a hurry and because he's good at picking locks, he let himself into a young woman's house uninvited. Didn't know her for five minutes, careful observation just telling him she lives alone. He could have gotten damn used to it if it hadn't been for the look of utter horror in her eyes everytime he'd told her to stay off the window or tried to calm her down even in a nice tone. It's a look that'll probably haunt his dreams forever. Then she had cried, tears streaming down her cheeks all movie-like. And so he had just stayed one day and taken what money he could find. He'd learned that day, out in the cold air again, that he's really bad at holding hostages. Probably shouldn't try that one again.

Sometimes he thinks he should just let them take him. Maybe it's warm in prison.

/

Of the few associates he's got, he likes to be around the ones he could still outsmart while drunker his drunk old self. Johnny's one of them. Man comes in handy when it's 'run and leave the stupidest behind'. They'll busy their teeth with him while Digger gets away. However, it's 'distract and extract' when it comes to money transporters. And for starters, he can leave the cracking of the doors to Johnny while someone's gotta avert the guard's attention elsewhere.

"Let me do the talkin', mate. Or we'll both rot in the next jail."

Digger's good at talking, that's a pro.

/

Life is cruel and it's a dog-eat-dog world, so he's got no remorse when he breaks deals with fellow thieves and thugs, tricking them if need be, relieving them of their own stolen goods if the opportunity arises, always out for his own tail. Of course, that _doesn't_ go smoothly more often than it does. So he spits out his own tooth one time.

"Digger. Digger, Digger, Digger. Come on, old boy. You talkin?" A hand roughly takes hold of mutton chops and he spits out blood. No heroes among criminals. No loyalty.

Messing with a mob hadn't been the smartest thing he'd ever done. Guys are... organized and he's alone. Still he spills it all, where the money is and shit. Because he can't afford to lose another tooth, and because he'll never play the tough guy when his body's at someone else's mercy. He's not that stupid. He's not the Batman.

He gets (who'd guessed) a gold tooth in its place. And people think that one's there because his dental care is bad. Well, joke's on them; not really.

/

He consumes so much alcohol, he can _feel_ his liver screaming at him sometimes. It's too much of a danger to drink on heists or "at work" as he likes to call it, though. He'd never do that. It's what he's told himself in the beginning. But whether you're drunk or sober is harder to determine when your primary liquid diet consists of low percentage beer.

Yeah, he's the guy that stumbles through back alleys in the night, quietly muttering to himself. The one you'd avoid or pass with a huge distance shoved between the two of you that'd deeply hurt his drunk feelings and make him loudly curse at you. But sometimes he just doesn't know what's real anymore. That just doesn't happen when you're drunk 24/7.

/

He sleeps with whores when he's got the extra money to spare. If he's real lucky though, he doesn't even have to pay them for a quick thing and a story of the infamous Captain Boomerang in return, maybe an earring here or there, all stolen stuff of course. The low life, they know each other around the block. And so he's that guy that can tell them all apart by pseudonyms like Amber, Chastity or - his favorite - 'Australia'. Who needs real women or a woman for life when those names roll off his tongue so much more sweetly? They don't ask him why he's got a black eye every other day or why his lip is bloody. They'd kiss it better, lick the blood off. Not that he's _that_ much of a kinky fucker.

He should have all kinds of STDs by now. Or maybe he's immune, he thinks, because of the alcohol that has replaced his blood stream.

/

He does guys when he has to. He's slept with a cop on one occasion, there's no shame in that. Even when he asks for it because there's no other way of getting that deal (You gotta take the things you want, remember?) There's no shame in anything any longer when you're Digger Harkness. He doesn't enjoy it, didn't sink that low. But it's useful when the world's corrupt and everyone and their mother is a sex deprived introvert. It's got shit to do with tender or caring, not that he's a fan of that pansy business anyway. It's just quick and does the job: guy didn't see a thing and he's free to hurry along, not feeling dirtier than he does on a daily basis. Not at all.

Hah, at least guy might catch an STD from him.

/

Things only ever get real shitty when he doesn't find places to crash and has got to keep himself awake and drunk somehow for more than one night. It's driving body and mind to a point of delirious exhaustion. So it's no fucking surprise (and seriously, he's had it coming) when the cops are faster than him, and the poorly thrown boomerang misses a head just barely but enough to get him caught. He's still imagining the way it would have taken the guy's brains clean off his shoulders when handcuffs make a familiar clicking sound behind his back.

"Y'can send me straigh' to the chair." he jokes, Australian accent heavy, half shit-faced and stupidly tired while the side of his face rests uncomfortably on the hood of a police vehicle. He's got to stiffle a cynical chuckle. Daddy would have been so proud. But then again, Daddy ain't never cared much anyway.

"Nah, not gonna happen, Cap'n." They usually never call him 'Captain', unless it's to mock him. "Someone up real high's got a proposition for you."

And he's so confused by that that he actually forgets fighting the hands that push him into the back of the police car. Who in bloody heaven could want something from Digger Harkness other than to cut his beard off for all the shit he's done to them? They don't tell him more. He just overhears that it's a 'she'.

'Well,' he thinks, ' _she's_ gotta be real desperate.'

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 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** She in the end is obviously Amanda Waller! Hope you liked this little one shot, I just tried to get a little bit into what I think could be Jai Courtney's version of Boomerang.


End file.
